


Normandy

by jupiter_james



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gore, Graphic Sex, Graphic Violence, Homophobia, M/M, Mass Effect AU, Racial slurs, The Normandy crew kick's Hitler's ass, Tobacco use, WWII AU, War Crimes, alcohol use, more tags added as necessary to avoid major plot spoilers, seriously this is WWII, so much violence and racism in the 40s
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-05-25 01:14:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6174406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiter_james/pseuds/jupiter_james
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mass Effect World War II AU. Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko of the Royal Canadian Navy is trained as a special ops engineer now on loan to the US Navy to aid in their efforts against the Japanese in the Pacific Theater. His mission seems straightforward enough, until he boards the famous <i>USS Enterprise</i> and meets her unstoppable crew; namely a battle-hardened war hero named Commander Ianto Shepard, who is rapidly growing in fame for his reckless, but effective tactics. And when the Allies begin to lose footing in the Pacific, Captain David Anderson hopes that Kaidan's skill in intelligence and infiltration will be the perfect ying to Ianto's brutally aggressive yang. But as their crew fights from Midway all the way to D-Day, Kaidan and Ianto discover so much more in each other than the perfect battlefield harmony, and a refusal to bow to a world falling apart around them at every turn. They'll do anything for the cause. For each other. No matter the cost.</p><p>
  <b>KITH MADE THE MOST PERFECT PLAYLIST IN THE HISTORY OF EVER FOR THIS FIC! SERIOUSLY. NO JOKE, IT'S BEYOND PERFECT AND HISTORICALLY APPROPRIATE! <a href="http://8tracks.com/haudhenelleth/it-s-a-lovely-day-tomorrow"> PLEASE LISTEN TO IT HERE ON 8TRACKS</a>!</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 01

**Author's Note:**

> _**READ THE WARNINGS IN THE TAGS ABOVE!!!!**_. I'm not joking. This fic takes place in the 1940's during WWII. While I'm not going out of my way to write in a bunch of horrible things, I am going to remain accurate to the time this fic is set in. There are going to be a lot of possible triggers, which I will tag for at the start of chapters. But be aware of racial slurs, homophobia, racism, sexism, gore, strong language, alcohol use, and tobacco use. 
> 
> That being said, if you notice anything that I fail to tag and needs to be addressed, _send me a message or comment_! Please! I am happy to tag for things that I miss, within reason while trying to avoid spoiling the entire plot in the process.

**April 1942**

"Hey, there, LT," a cheerful voice intones right into Kaidan Alenko's ear, easily drowning out what seems to be the hundredth Sinatra song in a row. The band obviously has a thing for him, but it's drawing in hordes of bobby soxers and the military men wanting a last dance. One decked out dancer currently has her arm draped over the back of Kaidan's freshly-pressed uniform, and leaned so close that he can smell her makeup and mild vanilla perfume. "It's good to see you out and about on the last night of the world."

Smiling, Kaidan tips back his whiskey with a small moan of appreciation. "It's not the end of the world, Ashley," he replies, voice gravelly from the smoke filling the warm dance hall and the cut of the liquor down his throat. "That's why they're shipping me overseas."

She grins and kisses his cheek hard, likely just to leave her bright red lipstick stain on his face. It matches her fiery-red dress that Kaidan's certain she's wearing just for him because he likes it the best. "Just the end of _my_ world, then. I'll miss you, you know? I thought they were sending you down south to America? I tried to volunteer down there. Wanted to help at the hospitals, and they decided to send me straight overseas." Her arm leans heavier on him for a moment while she lowers herself to the bar stool next to him, lifting her hand to summon the bartender.

"Wow," Kaidan says for lack of anything more eloquent. He doesn't want to say that he's scared for her because she's the toughest woman he's ever met, but he _is_ scared. Scared for him and for her and all the other laughing soldiers crowding the bar and laughing like it really is the last night of the world. They've been friends for ages, him and Ashley. So long that to Kaidan it feels like there was never a time in his life without her. Their families are both dedicated generational servicemen, and no one was surprised when Kaidan enlisted and Ashley served in any capacity that she could, mostly sticking close to wherever her best friend turned up. They'd blazed around the BC interior, inseparable as kids, scraping their knees together and growing out of their clothes at the same time. Ashley had fought off more than a few bullies who went after Kaidan for his studious intentions in school, and he'd never begrudged her that. She had taught him how to land a winning punch.

In fact, Ashley Williams was probably the only person in the whole world who knew who Kaidan Alenko _really_ was. She'd noticed when they'd entered university together. Their families had expected them to turn up over the holidays engaged, and lord knows, the pair of them tried. It had been a pleasant evening before the Christmas holidays when they'd found themselves alone in the library studying for exams and Ashley had stolen a kiss. Kaidan had tried for one of his own, but it hadn't felt quite right. He'd apologized profusely, saying she was too much like a sister.

But Ashley had laughed and for the first time ever, voiced a dark thought buried in the recesses of Kaidan's mind. She'd said, "every woman in the world will only ever be your sister, and that's if she's real lucky. You don't want more than that."

And she'd been fine with it. Kaidan had denied it, but she hadn't minded. She'd kissed his forehead and reminded him that they had always been close for a reason. Nothing would ever change that. And it hadn't. They were still together, and it wasn't lost on Kaidan the significance of the only thing able to separate them being a World War.

In the present, Kaidan feels a fierce thrill of love for the spitfire brunette, and asks, "where you off to?"

She shrugs and slides his refilled whiskey closer to his fingers. Then she picks up her beer and daintily clinks their glasses together. "Dunno. Haven't got my orders yet, but I'm guessing London or somewhere like it. Doesn't matter as long as I can do my part, and I don't want to stay here in Vancouver making blankets and socks."

That makes Kaidan grin. "Somehow I'm not surprised you'd find your way to the front lines. Just... take care of yourself, Williams. You got nothing to prove."

She bumps his shoulder. "Neither do you."

"The Allies need more soldiers and we're only sending specialists right now. I'm not trying to be a hero. But I'm a career man. I'm going to go where I'm needed, same as you."

"Well, don't take this personal, but I hope I don't see you out there. Means I'll be patching you up, and I'd rather think of you out there taking out the bad guys."

Kaidan downs the rest of his drink and coughs when it hits harder than intended. "Yeah," he says hoarsely. "We'll make it. We'll get Hitler and there'll be parades. People hugging and crying in the streets."

Ashley laughs. "That's what I love most about you; your aggressive optimism."

"Hardly," Kaidan returned with a wink. "Can you even imagine what'll happen if the bad guys win this one?"

"Nope. And they won't, you're right. When do you ship out?"

"Tomorrow. Supposed to go to the Pacific theatre. Help hold the line against the Japanese. They're putting me on an American vessel under a Captain David Anderson."

Ashley nods several times while she chugs her beer, then drops the glass back to the table with a hard _thump_. " _The_ Captain Anderson? Hell, you'll be just fine serving with him. He's got commendations enough to shoulders sag under all the medals by now. Still. I'll save all my prayers for you, LT."

"Thank you, Ashley."

"Now give a girl a good spin before you go, would 'ya? You'll need something to keep you warm at night when you're out at sea surrounded by nothing but water and men." Her wink is entirely too exaggerated.

Kaidan laughs like her joke amuses him, but in reality his mirth has everything to do with the first thought that pops into his head, which is, _that would be really nice for me_. She already knows that. He sweeps his hand out in a dramatic bow, and Ashley accepts the offer, tweaking his cap and spinning into his arms then tucking her fingers under the lapel of his dark blue Naval uniform. The music is loud and upbeat, and Ashley dances much better than him, but she's not put off for a second when they bump knees or he knocks them into another couple. She's smiling and her lipstick is on his cheek, and the drinks made him lighter, and just for tonight there's not a war going on.

xXx

The next morning, Kaidan is standing on the docks at attention with a handful of other soldiers awaiting their orders under an impossibly blue sky. Admiral Hackett addresses them loudly over the stiff ocean breeze and the dull roar of ship engines. "Gentlemen, as you know from the briefings and news reports, the Americans are asking for assistance in aiding the war effort against the Japanese in the Pacific. We are not prepared to send thousands of our sons across the ocean, but you here today have all expressed your interest and, in some cases, _intent_ to aid however you can. In light of this, I have hand chosen each and every one of you personally for your service record and unique expertise to place you in key positions within the Pacific theatre with the United States Navy." He nods over his shoulder. "Once you board this ship, you will officially be on loan to Uncle Sam. You will receive your orders within twenty-four hours. Follow them to the letter and remember that you are the finest men that the Canadian Royal Navy has to offer. Make us proud, boys."

Hackett salutes and the rest of the men snap to follow. He dismisses them presently, and Kaidan bends over to pick up his duffle and sling it over his shoulder. He waits in line to board, giving his name, rank, and ID number to the seaman checking them all off for clearance to board. He is told his bunk assignment and waved on. 

It takes some time for Kaidan to make his way below decks to the crew quarters. They're shipping out on an aircraft carrier, and it's much larger than what he's used to. Impressive, to boot. He has no time to explore, but on his way below decks he takes the time to admire the gleaming metal armaments and the organized chaos of almost two-thousand men rushing about on their tasks.

There's a lot of saluting and hand shaking on his journey to his quarters, and most of the men he speaks to seem impressed about his mission critical status. Since he won't be aboard long, the brass saw fit to place him in his own cabin in the officer's quarters. Kaidan thinks he probably only outranks a handful of the crew at best, but certainly isn't looking a gift horse in the mouth as he pushes the heavy door to the cabin open and gives it an appraising once-over. And what he sees sure beats the tar out of sleeping crammed into the hangar bay with a thousand other GI's on creaky cots.

Small and practical. Certainly nothing that he can complain about. There's a rack with a mattress and sheets and a pillow that don't look completely uncomfortable, a metal desk bolted to the other wall, and a small bathroom with a toilet and shower. He takes his rare alone time to unpack his bag, placing his neatly folded and pressed uniforms into the tiny dresser next to the bed. Then he places his toiletries on the shelf in the bathroom. It doesn't take long to get situated. He checks the clock over the door, confirming that it's almost time for mess. Might as well get over there.

He steps into the cramped hallway just in time to turn on his heel and smash into a solid chest.

"Steady on," a low, amused voice says as hands close over his shoulders to catch him.

"Apologies," Kaidan gasps, faltering a step back, eyes focusing on the front of the officer's uniform. Oh, God. "Commander," he finishes saluting the man with a hint of panic. Wonderful first impression to a superior officer.

"Lieutenant," the man answers, voice even richer with amusement. "Welcome to the _USS Enterprise_."

Kaidan's eyes drift up as he lowers his hand, his first wild impression being, _this man is too tall to be below decks on a ship_. He's tall enough that Kaidan has to tilt his chin up slightly, and at six feet, he's not small by any means. And as his whiskey brown eyes alight on the man's face, he stumbles back another step. _Dear Lord, have mercy on my soul,_ he thinks miserably. "Thank you, sir," is what he says.

The commander has the greenest eyes Kaidan's ever seen. Laugh lines deep around them on a weathered, angular face used to being out in the elements. His tawny skin is tanned even darker from outside work. Black hair cut regulation short and slicked back with small patches of gray at the temples. His boyish smile on full lips is either making him look younger than he is, or he's gone prematurely gray. Either way, Kaidan immediately feels a shock of desire sock him right in the chest. He hasn't felt anything like it in years. Since he was a kid. Since before he enlisted.

He knows that he's gaping, but the commander isn't saying anything back to him. It's like they're frozen for a moment, but then the taller man releases Kaidan's shoulders and flexes his fingers. "You the special ops we took on?" he asks.

"Yeah-er, yes, sir. Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko."

"Alenko, huh?" he answers thoughtfully. "Happy crash, then. I'm Commander Ianto Shepard. You'll be under my command here and on the ground." 

He holds out his hand and Kaidan shakes it weakly. _This can't be happening_. Kaidan shakes his head. "Pleasure serving with you, Commander Shepard."

"I'm sure it will be." Shepard winks and pats him on the shoulder before squeezing past him and it takes everything Kaidan has to no lean into him as their chests brush in the tight quarters. "See you at mess, LT. Officers have a private dining room. Anderson prefers us to all be on time."

Then he's gone and Kaidan's left clenching a fist over his heart, desperately trying to calm it. It's not the time or the place. Or the anything. He grits his teeth and swears silently. He really _should_ have taken his uncle's advice and gone into the bowels of academia instead.

xXx

The second the lieutenant is out of sight, Shepard stops his purposeful walk to glance back over his shoulder with a soft whistle. He hadn't been too excited about his new commission, training greenhorns to fight a nasty war, but Hell sure had its perks, apparently. Being assigned to the _Enterprise_ notwithstanding. And Alenko? Wow. He was something else. The kind of soldier they made propaganda posters of. Spit-shined and perfect in face and body. For a brief moment, Shepard wonders what he'd look like in his dress uniform, but shakes his hands out vigorously to bleed off the adrenaline rush. _Easy, Commander_ , he admonishes himself. It's one thing to admire the scenery, but a whole other to have sinful fantasies about another man. Certainly no one would find his admiration or even flirting _too_ odd since many of them hadn't seen a proper woman in nearly a year, but still. No one's mind is right after such a long time on deployment. Especially with the horrors it's been bringing.

Honestly, Ianto was relieved for the help from anywhere to turn the tide. He couldn't imagine the war dragging on much longer. He hadn't been out into the Pacific yet, but he'd been hearing a lot about it and watching his men bleed elsewhere, instead. The bigger picture wasn't his concern, so he could hardly fathom the total costs, and was glad for it, because every time he tried, he thought his heart would beat right out of his chest. At his last physical after returning from France, the doctor had been worried about his nerves. Asking him if his head was all right after seeing his entire battalion wiped out by Nazis. Hell, no, he hadn't been all right. He'd been the only one to survive the attack with shrapnel left in his leg as a parting gift. He'd been laid up for months only to reject the out he'd been given with his honorable discharge papers to return home. He'd raged and burned them and cursed at Captain Anderson until the man had taken pity on him enough to bring him back, but not enough to leave him on his own. That's how he'd ended up on the _Enterprise_ herding raw recruits until they arrived at their destination. It was a good distraction, if nothing else. He'd rather scream himself hoarse running boys through their drills on their way to becoming men. The other option was letting his mean scream themselves dead in his dreams.

"Enough, Ianto," he warns himself. He's got a job, he'll do it. It's not about him, anyway. He pauses to collect himself at the door to the officer's mess, breathing long and deep several times.

Pasting on a large smile, he pulls the door open and enters the mess. "Joker!" Shepard calls jovially to the familiar face limping in from the other door, "how the hell did I get stuck with you again?"

The bearded pilot grins and offers his CO a deep bow before taking his place at the table where the food is already laid out on serving dishes in the middle. "Because I don't take it personally when you jump out of my planes."

Shepard laughs and sits to the right of the head of the table; his place next to Captain Anderson just after Joker. "I won't complain about the familiar face. Too many new ones."

"I'll say," Joker answers with a teasing lilt to his voice, focused on the door.

Shepard turns his head and his breathing stutters again for a moment. Kaidan Alenko. He looks even more impressive now that he's not coming off his back foot from being startled. There isn't even a wrinkle out of place on his uniform. His back is straight, expression open but formal. No wonder he'd been climbing the ranks so fast. He looked every bit the part, and handsome as the devil to boot.

"Good evening," Kaidan says in his smoke and velvet voice.

Half a dozen officers return the informal greeting and the hand shaking begins again. Shepard watches Kaidan say hello to everyone and is struck with the thought that the way he pays extra attention to every new introduction probably means he's memorized the faces and names already. Or at least is trying to.

Boy, that voice. Shepard wants to close his eyes to listen to it with total focus. Instead, he smiles. "You're next to me, Alenko."

Kaidan takes a seat where indicated bringing the scent of aftershave and peppermint. "Thank you, Commander," he says warmly.

Joker takes the opportunity to lean forward over Shepard and hold his hand out right under the man's nose. "Jeff Moreau," he says, foregoing his rank and any formality whatsoever. Kaidan hesitates at the rudeness, but decides it's better to shake hands quickly and offend the commander rather than offend both of them by refusing.

"Get your dirty hand out of my face, Joker," Shepard says, though there's no heat to it. "Don't pay him any mind, Alenko. Joker here is a fine pilot, but an ass the rest of the year."

Joker grins. "He means to say that I'm the best damn pilot in the Alliance. I'll always get you where you need to go."

"That's reassuring," Kaidan deadpans.

Shepard offers him a heart-stopping grin, and Joker laughs uproariously, but the conversation stops when Captain David Anderson enters the room. Chairs scrape back against the floor and everyone jumps to attention. Kaidan would be lying to himself if he said that he hadn't been looking forward to the privilege of serving under such a distinguished officer. He's followed Anderson's career almost by accident with how often the man shows up in the English language papers and newsreels. The military propaganda machine has turned him into a legend, however he's most certainly at least a hero without them singing his praises.

"At ease," Anderson says presently, taking his seat, and all the others following in his wake. He picks up the first dish to serve himself and passes it to his right, officially opening the meal. The conversations pick up again at reasonable volume while everyone fills their plates. Shepard hands Kaidan a bowl of roasted potatoes and then directs his attention to Anderson.

"Sir, I've got Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko here on my right. New face from Canada."

It's slightly intimidating to be under the legend's assessing gaze and Kaidan finds himself sitting up straighter as he passes the serving dish down to the next man. Anderson seems to size him up completely in seconds. "Nice to have some good specialists with us. Who did you train under?"

"Admiral Steven Hackett," Kaidan answers, folding the white cloth napkin neatly in his lap. "And I served on deployment with him to London briefly."

"Hackett's a great man and a great officer," Anderson says approvingly. "Have you been abroad long?"

"No, sir," Kaidan admits a bit guiltily. "I've mostly been training spec ops myself for deployment. They kept me home for a long time as a back line engineer and code breaker." He's speaking directly to Anderson, but out of the corner of his eye he sees Shepard's eyebrows shoot up with interest. It makes him preen a little.

"Nothing to sound so ashamed of," Anderson says. "Your type of job saves more lives than any of us grunts can."

Joker raps his hand on the table in agreement and Shepard salutes with his glass. "Damn right," Shepard adds. "I can't even tell you how many times I haven't been made dead because of intel like yours. Hat's off to you."

Anderson smiles. "You and Shepard are going to make a fine team, I think."

"How's that?" Kaidan asks before he can think better of it.

"You've got the brains and he's got the brawn. If you can convince him to listen to you before he cocks off with guns blazing, I'm sure you'll be unstoppable."

Kaidan isn't sure whether it's an insult to Shepard or not, but the commander laughs like Anderson's just told the oldest joke in the world. "I'm not _that_ difficult," he argues.

"No, but you _are_ that crazy," Anderson returns.

"I'll do my best," Kaidan says, trying for the diplomatic approach.

For some reason, that makes both Shepard and Joker laugh loudly, and even Anderson cracks a smile. But that's the firm end of shop talk. Joker mentions baseball and that sets Shepard off on a truly impressive rant about statistics and players and _did you hear about the women's teams that are gaining steam_? He sounds impressed rather than insulted, and Anderson is eventually dragged into the debates, lamenting the war ruining everything, down to organized sports. It goes on and on for an hour, Kaidan listening intently not just to what they're saying, but how they're saying it to each other. 

Shepard clearly respects Anderson above all other men, though he shows it by constant irreverence punctuated by enough "yes, sir's" and "no, sir's" to keep Anderson from doing anything more strict than rolling his eyes. 

Joker doesn't seem to have a respectful bone in his body. Shepard treats him like a brother, pretending that the icy chip on the pilot's shoulder doesn't even exist, but Anderson notices. It's curious to Kaidan how the captain chooses to ignore it, though Joker's lack of respect for authority clearly annoys him. It strikes Kaidan that Jeff Moreau probably wasn't stretching the truth even slightly to call himself the best pilot they had, and that was why Anderson ignores the attitude.

Regardless of the unorthodox officers, Kaidan learned through the rest of dinner and on inspecting the ship on his way back to his room, Anderson knew what he was doing. The ship's crew ran like a single organism, so finely tuned there wasn't a speck out of place. The officers were at least incredible at their jobs, and at most, famous for them. When Anderson demanded the best of the best, he spared no expense.

Kaidan's shift didn't begin until morning, so he spends the time after dinner writing to both his parents and Ashley. There's not much to tell either of them, but he's compelled to reassure them that he's fine and proud of his assignment. He finds himself unconsciously telling Ashley about Shepard, about what he's learned so far. He knows it's foolish and that she'll read between the lines even when there aren't any, though it still feels good to organize his jumbled thoughts on paper. Ianto Shepard is a war hero. Kaidan deeply admires his humility and his skill. It will be a privilege to serve with him, of that Kaidan has no doubt. He also knows that nothing about it will be easy. Shepard is the sort of dangerous man that Kaidan's learned how to glance at once and then turn away from to save himself. He knows it. And for the moment he's being reckless enough not to care. So he fills several pages of Ianto's service record and perceived flaws to seal in an envelope and mail to his best friend. She'll know how to knock him on the head until he's right again.

He hopes, at any rate. It's not until well after midnight that he's able to stop worrying long enough to fall into a restless sleep.


	2. Chapter 02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard and Kaidan begin to get more acquainted.

Kaidan wakes after a fitful night's sleep to his alarm ringing right behind his head. Without opening his eyes, he swings his arm behind his head and whacks the bell down hard. Right on time. Damn it all. It takes him a few minutes to actually get out of his rack. It's not the most comfortable place to sleep, but he can feel the hum of the engines underneath him and some of the larger swells from the ocean, and it nearly puts him right back to sleep. But then he hears voices in hall, doubtless the night shifts coming off of their duties, and it really is time to get up or miss breakfast. 

He washes and shaves as quickly as possible, studying himself in the cloudy mirror over the sink before slicking his hair back precisely and then washing the oil off of his hands. His uniform is last. He snaps his wrists to draw out the wrinkles before putting it on. Always the same way. Comforting in its unchanging routine.

The officer's dining room is informal for breakfast and lunch. There is a buffet set out on the table and everyone on the day rotation is slapping food onto their trays haphazardly and sitting anywhere there is an open space. Kaidan sets his food and coffee down next to Joker and is presently flanked on the other side by Shepard, who is squinting moodily at the porthole opposite them. His hair is sticking up in the back, which Kaidan notices when Shepard yawns loudly and noisily, making as much of a production out of it as he can.

"Good morning," Kaidan hazards saying.

"Don't remind me," Shepard grouses, voice still rough with sleep.

"You're on my roster today," Joker says to Kaidan, completely ignoring the commander. "Gunning for my command in the hanger?"

"Not eve a little," Kaidan answers with a smile. "It's just where I'm best suited to help."

"I'm beginning to think you're a jack of all trades," Shepard says groggily, still glaring at the sun. "You're fixing planes in the morning and taking a crack at our codes in the afternoon. Then tomorrow you're supposed to train the field medics. Is there anything you _can't_ do?"

Kaidan shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee. It's thick and awful. Exactly what he needs. "I'm fairly horrible at shooting sniper rifles."

Shepard laughs shortly. "We don't train for that. It doesn't count."

"Then I suppose you'll have to settle for knowing that I couldn't pilot any of those Hornets I maintain."

Joker grins around a mouthful of hash. "You won't even notice the loss with me around to do it."

"What do you fly?" Kaidan asks.

A wicked glint in his eye, Joker says, "everything."

The lieutenant glances towards Shepard, but the commander doesn't deny it. It's probably true, anyway. Captain Anderson had given Kaidan several of the officers' personnel records, including Joker and Shepard. Seeing as how he'd be in charge of suggesting infiltration teams and special tactics forces, the more he knew about the men, the better. Joker was impressive enough just getting accepted into the Navy with his physical disability. Most people were turned away for a great deal less. 

Then, remembering something from last night, Kaidan asks Shepard, "did you really jump out of his plane?"

Joker laughs and the first hint of a mischievous smile appears on Ianto's face through his early morning moodiness. "To be fair, I was _supposed_ to do it. I'm most useful as an infiltrator. Parachuting." He makes a diving motion with his hand onto the table.

Kaidan's eyebrows shoot up. His records hadn't mentioned that. "That's... geez."

Shepard's sleepy half-grin turns to him. "You've never done it? Figured special ops would have."

Kaidan shakes his head. "No, I mean, yes, I have, but it was only into a friendly zone. And only once." He grimaces.

The drowsiness fades instantly from Shepard's face as he props his elbow on the table, leaning towards Kaidan. The lieutenant wanted nothing more than to pull away, but that would only back him into Joker, so he has to suffer the minty smell of Shepard's aftershave. "Not afraid of heights are you, Alenko?"

And that snaps him out of his anxiety quickly, in favor of indignance. "Hardly," he says primly. "I just don't see the appeal in jumping out of a perfectly good airplane."

Joker's laughing so hard that he chokes on his hash. Shepard reaches behind Kaidan to pound the man on the back for a second. "Not much for thrills," he says cheerfully. "Noted. Makes me wonder how you ended up in this profession, though."

Kaidan shrugs, poking at his eggs. "It was kinda the only option at the time," he answers more seriously than intended.

"I'm a legacy, too," Shepard says, and his eyes indicate a wealth of understanding. But then the small moment is broken and he pushes away from the table. "Joker, if you're done dying, show Alenko to his duties. You're mine at thirteen-hundred. Don't be late."

Like that was even _possible_ for him. "Yes, sir," he says at the same time Joker coughs out a, "you got it." When Shepard leaves the dining room, Kaidan honestly can't account for how much easier it is to breathe.

xXx

Two weeks later, Joker is even more full of complaints than ever. "If I knew you were gonna be this efficient, I would have thrown myself overboard days ago," he huffs, helping Kaidan roll a rack of tools for the Hornets down the deck.

"Tired already?" Kaidan teases, now much more comfortable in his routine with the crew and their rotations. "Thought you wanted to be able to actually fly these things once we got to our destination."

"Not all of them at once."

"It's sweet you think that you're the only pilot we got," Kaidan says, locking the wheels of the cart next to one of the planes.

"Yeah, I'm a real dollie," Joker mutters, pulling on his toolbelt and filling it. "I can handle this, y'know. Shepard's gonna bust your sack if you're late again."

Kaidan chuckles. "Dunno why. He's a perfectly good code breaker all by himself." Still, Joker's got a point. The commander had given him a stiff talking to when he'd showed up five minutes late for his shift several days ago after he lost track of time servicing some shorted-out panels. He wipes his dirty hands on one of the shop rags and removes his belt.

"He's competitive," Joker answers then waves him off.

Kaidan both enjoys and dreads his shifts with Shepard. They've been too far out to get any useful intel thus far, so the hours have passed slowly and somewhat torturous. The room they're set up in is cramped, and with two grown men inside it, they tended to brush more than just shoulders passing back and forth between their stations. It's been nice, though. Kaidan himself is used to long stretches of quiet in his work. It had often been solitary back in Canada, so he hadn't expected the commander to be much of a pal, but that had been a mistaken assumption he'd learned on their very first rotation together. Shepard liked to talk. A lot. When the radios and telegraphs were silent, the commander was not. They talked sports, music, news, hometowns. Anything meaningless and mildly interesting to keep the clock ticking. He'd also discovered on one of their overnight shifts together that Shepard was a mean card player.

And now Kaidan had started to dread their shifts together since the commander seemed so disinclined to become any less attractive the more they got to know each other.

Now Kaidan's ritual is pausing outside the door to the code room and taking a deep, fortifying breath before pushing inside. He knows Shepard's already there. He always is. "Afternoon," he says breezily.

Shepard tosses a grin over his shoulder. "Right on time. Already got some work for you. We're closing in on enemy territory, so the chatter's getting a lot louder. How's your Japanese."

"I don't speak it, but my ear is good enough to copy phonetics," Kaidan answers, taking his seat and putting on a pair of earphones. There's dead air for the moment, so he glances over to where Shepard has a small mountain of paper sitting in a teetering stack next to a full ashtray. Must have been a busy morning if he'd already smoked that many.

Shepard sees him looking and passes the stack over while he busies himself dumping the ashes into the metal trash bin under the desk and wiping the stray mess away from the controls. "Sorry," he says sheepishly. "I've been at this since dawn."

"No worries," Kaidan answers distractedly, peering over all the sheets. "You know how to write in Japanese?"

"Oh, yeah, I can," he says, seemingly just realizing all his notes are scrawled in cramped, but confident hiragana. "My... uh, yeah I was taught. I speak a few languages."

He rubs the back of his neck and Kaidan decides to put him out of his misery. "Your dad taught you," he says matter-of-factly. When Shepard's eyes widen, he continues, "Anderson gave me your file. He said it was important that you and I understand each other. I think it was a test, though. 'Moriyama,'" he sounds out carefully, unfamiliar with the pronunciation. "That's a Japanese name."

Shepard pushes his earphones off and slumps back in his seat. "Guess that makes sense. A lot of people have had a problem with it." He taps another cigarette out of the pack, going for devil may care, but Kaidan can read his tension easily by now. He grabs his matches from his shirt pocket and lights the commander's cigarette for him, secretly enjoying the way that Shepard cups his hands around his to keep any stray breeze from knocking the flame out.

"You can tell me if you don't like it," Shepard says, leaning too close for a second to blow the match out. It makes Kaidan shiver briefly.

It takes a minute for Shepard's words to register the proper meaning with Kaidan after being so fixated on Shepard's lips as they curl around the cigarette, but when they do finally register, Kaidan sits forward, resting his elbows on the narrow metal desk attached to the instrument panels. "I don't care one way or the other," he says. "But it must be really tough for you."

He must be on some roll because that also suprises Shepard. His assessing green eyes sweep over Kaidan's face for an uncomfortable time before he answers, "It's harder for my mom."

Kaidan hums thoughtfully. "You don't look Japanese, though."

"I'm not." Shepard turns back to the blinking panels, puffing on his cigarette thoughtfully. "My real dad died when I was just a baby. I don't remember him at all. Then my mom met Kenzou, and they fell in love. They decided to stay in Omaha rather than move to Japan, but he taught me Japanese and everything when I was young."

"Where is he now?" It's a loaded question no matter how kindly Kaidan asks it.

Shepard turns his head to Kaidan, smiling sadly. "He's not loyal to the Empire. Not by any means. He's been in Nebraska with my mom for twenty-six years. New York before that. In fact, I think he's lived in the USA longer than he ever did in Japan."

"I didn't mean to be rude," Kaidan says apologetically.

"You'd be wrong not to ask," Shepard says, flicking casually at one of the switches. "There are spies everywhere. Sleepers. There's a war on. We don't always know who the real enemy is."

"Thinking like that can cause a panic," Kaidan points out.

Shepard shrugs, now fiddling with the dial on his radio. "Not unless we _really_ start losing." He hones in on some chatter, and suddenly he and Kaidan both are completely focused on the rapid, coded Japanese stuttering through the channel. Shepard is back scribbling in hiragana, Kaidan in roman characters and short hand until the message ends. The both push their papers to the center of the table to compare.

"Not bad," Shepard says approvingly. "You've got a better ear than anyone I can remember working with before. How many languages do _you_ speak?"

"A few," Kaidan grins, tossing the commander's earlier quip back. "And just the basics in several more."

"問題ない," Shepard says with a wink. "Not a problem. I'll help where I can."

The message turns out to be nothing critical, like most of the chatter so far. It's the quantity that's interesting. They're closing in on their ordered destination on Midway, so it's natural they'd be picking up more, but Kaidan and Shepard still send frequent, brief reports upstairs rather than hourly call-ins as they'd been doing. They're starting to be able to predict numbers of boots and ships and at least prepare for some of the mess that awaits them. 

Late into the evening, hours after the kitchen closes, Shepard and Kaidan having missed it due to a significantly chatty line, they are able to break for radio silence as the overnight hours drag on. Kaidan slips his headphones down to rest on his shoulders, stretching so hard that his back and neck pop.

"You're letting Anderson take advantage of your Canadian personality," Shepard says, grinning at the groan Kaidan makes as his joints pop when he tilts his head from side to side.

"How's that?" Kaidan asks, amused.

"When's the last time you had eight hours of rack time scheduled?"

Kaidan turns his face to the ceiling thoughtfully. "Maybe... a week ago?"

Shepard chuckles. "You don't have to be so agreeable. You can turn the Captain down every once in awhile."

"Doesn't _feel_ that way," Kaidan mutters. "Also, I just don't want to. Most of the other officers here know what they're doing. You've been on tour for more than a year now. I've got a lot of learning and catching up to do. You're hardly one to talk, either. You've been at this for nearly twenty-four hours today."

Shepard's hand on his shoulder is warm and nearly electrifying. Kaidan can't bring himself to turn his gaze down from where he's fixated on the overhead light. "None of us got here by opening the throttle straight away," he says kindly. "I know my limits, and besides, I'm used to longer shifts. There's a lot of downtime in the job right now, so I took some naps earlier." He balls his fist and knuckles into the shoulder joint until Kaidan pulls away with a sour glance, rubbing the sore spot. Shepard's smile is worth seeing, though. "I advise you to stop underselling yourself. You're leagues above most of the others. Not many people can do as much as you, regardless of how long they've served."

Taking a personal risk, Kaidan knuckles the commander right back on his shoulder until he's laughing and shoving his hand away with a loud, "ow, dammit!"

Kaidan grins. " _You_ can."

Shepard tilts his chin up and scratches thoughtfully at his stubble. "Yeah, well, I had nothing better to do and I get bored easily."

"'Idle hands are the devil's workshop?'"

"You never know. I like to play it safe."

Kaidan snorts. "That's a damn lie. I've read your file, remember?"

Shepard's face falls in an insincere picture of sadness. "There's no mystery left between us, is there?" He sighs dramatically. "How am I to impress you now?"

Despite the teasing way he's saying it, Kaidan's heart still takes the words seriously with a painful lurch in his chest. He's fairly proud of himself when he manages to keep up his expression of mirth. "Oh, you still have the classics to work with." He counts them off on his fingers. "Flowers, sweets, a night on the town..."

"Silk stockings?"

Kaidan barks a laugh. "Haven't got the gams for 'em."

That sends them both into peals of laughter that really only manifest themselves after days of sleep deprivation and getting too comfortable with one another. And it's not until Commander Bailey pokes his head through the door that they realize how noisy they're being.

"Christ Almighty," the constantly grouchy officer admonishes them. "You fools need to quiet down now. Don't you realize we're at war?"

Completely unruffled by the complaint, Shepard spins in his chair to face the older man, wiping tears out of the corners of his eyes with his thumb. "Not every night, Bailey."

"Hit the rack, both of you," Bailey says. "Shift change is in five minutes and you've clearly had enough."

Kaidan and Shepard shrug in tandem, standing and scooting past the commander. Shepard throws his arm around Kaidan's shoulders, dragging him back towards the officer's quarters. For his part, Kaidan tries his best to remain straight-faced, but it doesn't last once the delirium of laugher has taken hold. He and Shepard continue to snort with short giggles all the way back to their rooms.

In front of his door, Shepard gives his shoulder and squeeze and releases him. Kaidan takes in the man's full faced grin. It really is something else. Probably a doozy to kiss. The thought isn't as sobering as it had been a week ago. He almost doesn't mind. It doesn't dawn on him that he's been staring for too long until Shepard clears his throat. "Sorry," Kaidan says automatically.

"Falling asleep with your eyes open?"

"Something like that."

Shepard takes a small step back to rest against the opposite wall next to his own cabin door. Some nights it's painful realizing only a couple feet of hall separate them. "You're off duty tomorrow, right?"

"Only in the morning. I'm scheduled for antenna maintenance. See if we can't boost our range a bit more."

"You volunteered for that, didn't you?"

"Of course I did. Anything that helps."

Shepard crosses his arms over his chest and cants his head, assessing. "You didn't answer me before. You sure you're getting enough sleep, Alenko?"

Embarrassed at being caught, Kaidan rubs the back of his neck briefly. "I just feel like I should do everything I can."

Shepard nods. He truly understands. "Even so. You should get what you can before we get to Midway. Won't be much time then."

"I know," Kaidan says softly. Despite being on a warship, it's fairly easy some days to forget how big the war actually is. Then again, that's probably the point of the camaraderie and constant cheerfulness that permeates the ship. It won't last and they all know it. "I promise not to do too much."

Shepard's eyes soften. "Whatever's waiting, I've got your back."

"Good to know," Kaidan answers. "Thanks Shepard." The overwhelming feeling in his chest is starting to make his face flush, so he says a hasty good night and retreats to his cabin before his heart decides to jump out of his throat.

xXx

Shepard waits until Kaidan's door closes behind him before he lets himself fully relax. Sometimes he thinks about knocking on the door and asking him inappropriate questions about why it's just that much harder to concentrate whenever he's around. It's not like he's never seen an attractive man before. There are lots. That's one of the perks of being in the military.

He shrugs off of the wall and steps over the threshold into his own room, kicking the heavy door shut behind him. He glances around surprised, as if noticing the mess for the first time. Damn, but he needs to straighten his quarters. Luckily, inspections for officers are rare these days. Anderson's been letting them enjoy some personal freedom. Though, Shepard usually fancies himself quite tidy. Not in the past couple weeks.

He grabs a handful of his dirty uniforms that need to be washed, tossing them onto the floor of his closet. He doesn't bother making the bed since he's getting ready to sleep anyway, but toes off his boots and flops down onto the unmade sheets, putting his back against the wall. He empties out his full ashtray and then rests it on his thigh as he taps a cigarette out of the pack and lights it.

It's obvious why things have gotten carried away. It's all Kaidan. Shepard's always been a good soldier, and always done more than his share. But he's never _asked_ to do it. Never _wanted_ to do it. But now he's missing sleep and working nearly double the shifts because it means another few hours with Kaidan Alenko and his small, crooked smile that's mostly in his bedroom brown eyes. Laundry and mint scent. Long, deft fingers that throw switches and light matches in an almost-sensual way.

It's too damn much. Shepard doesn't hate himself or think he should be different. He's never thought that something was wrong with him, or that he was made unnatural. He is how he is. Women appeal on rare occasions, and he likes them well enough. They're soft and lovely and smart and fun. But they're not men. Not _men_. He's known since he was young and his friends talked about the difference between girls, and _girls_. He'd only understood what they had meant because he had the equivalent thought of the difference between boys, and _boys_. He'd even told his mother once upon a time. He can still picture perfectly in his mind the look she'd given him; full of pity, and she'd said, "that won't make you very popular, Ianto. The world isn't always so kind."

He chuckles and taps the ashes of his cigarette into the dented tin tray. No, it hasn't made him very popular, but there have been enough _men_ for him to be able to judge that Kaidan Alenko is the best he's ever known.

And he wonders sometimes with the looks that the lieutenant gives him. He can't ask, but he can, and does, suspect. He's definitely honed his skills of reading people for his own safety and sanity, if nothing else. Kaidan guards himself well. He's careful in all of his interactions. Nearly always totally professional. But Shepard's been watching for the tells. He's seen a few. And the small tinder of hope that ignites inside of him is pretty damn impossible to put out. He doesn't even want to. More every day when he sees that Kaidan doesn't interact with anyone quite as genuinely as he does with him. That's a private gift that Ianto holds aggressively close, and carefully encourages the closeness all he can. If Kaidan _is_ like him, Shepard has to reassure him that he's safe and understood in their shared friendship. Respected.

Sometimes he's envious of the easy way that most people can fall in love. Or... fall in _something_. Love often takes too much time when the whole world is fighting. But nobody bats an eyelash when a man buys a woman a drink and asks her to dance.

He wonders if Kaidan can dance.

Kaidan can probably dance. 

He'd love to be able to ask Kaidan to dance. Buy him a drink. Ask him what he's gonna do after the war.

It seems like his thoughts are chasing each other in circles in his head, so he lays down properly on his pillow, reaching underneath to pull out a smudged envelope, thumbing over his name written in neat script. He shakes the letter out of the envelope and unfolds it, holding it up over his face to read it again.

_Ianto,_

_First I need to say that I hope this isn't the only letter that makes it to you. Please write whenever you get the chance. I worry about you all the time. I may not enjoy sending my only son off to war, but I need you to know that I am so very proud of you. The reports on the radio sound awful, so I hope that you are taking care of yourself as best as you can. Your father and I are doing our best to help here at home. Lots of our neighborhood boys have gone off and enlisted, so there is plenty of farm work and office work that needs doing. Luckily, no one we know has been reported missing or killed in action. I thank God for that every night._

_Enough of that, though. How are you doing? How is the assignment? I know that you were looking forward to working with that particular crew. I was also told that you would be working with some special ops from Canada? Tell me how that goes. I hope that they send you some really good people._

_I also hope that this whole mess is over soon. I hope that you can come home. The apple trees are beautiful. No one makes apple pies quite like you. Take care of yourself. Write soon. I love you._

_Your Loving Mother,_

_Hannah._

He reads the message twice, as is his ritual before folding it up neatly and slipping it back into the envelope. He smiles. He sure does have a lot to tell her about a particular Canadian special ops who has been entrusted to his care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I've slowed down on everything, guys. I hope that I can now start focusing more on this fic, but I'm not feeling all that confident about my writing lately. I'm not sure why. :(


	3. Supplemental Materials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by chapter notes, supplemental facts, and glossary. I will update for every chapter as needed.

Chapter By Chapter Notes

I will be adding notes about the war and interesting facts to supplement the chapters and things that are mentioned in the fic here.

 **Chapter 01**  
The _USS Enterprise_ was a very real, very decorated ship in the US Navy during WWII. It was commissioned in 1938 and decommissioned in 1947. It fought more against the Japanese forces than any other US ship, and the Japanese actually reported it sunk three times when it hadn't been. That's how it earned it's wonderful nicknames, _Lucky E_ , and the _Gray Ghost_. Most commonly she was called the _Big E_. [You can find more information about her here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Enterprise_\(CV-6\)).

The US military did, in fact, call for aid from Canada after the attack on Pearl Harbor for help fighting the Japanese in the Pacific theatre, as Kaidan does here in the fic. At the time, Canada had officially declared war on most Axis countries, though they wished to aid other militaries rather than sending out huge swaths of their own. Despite that, over a million men served by the end of the war, and they were heavily involved in training other Allied militaries and many Canadian soldiers served in foreign militaries themselves. So, Kaidan being loaned to Uncle Sam's military was very much the norm.

The _USS Enterprise_ was involved in the battles at Midway, so that part of the fic mention is accurate, though I've taken creative license to get our boys off the ship and into the action on the ground. Aircraft carries such as _Big E_ never got near enough to land, usually sending ground troops by plane or another seafaring vessel.

At the end of the fic, the men talk about a women's baseball league. The [All American Girls Professional Baseball League](http://www.aagpbl.org/) (AAGPBL) was a very real thing! If you've seen the movie, _A League of Their Own_ , you know what I'm talking about. In fact, I got the idea for this fic from that movie. They were professional women baseball players who played from 1943-1954. There is still an All American Girls Professional Baseball League Players Association, however the original league was officially disbanded in 1954.


End file.
